


Mephistophilis' Torment

by kiitos



Category: Doctor Faustus - Christopher Marlowe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiitos/pseuds/kiitos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Mephistophilis knew, for this was his torment. He would never forget his Faustus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mephistophilis' Torment

Mephistophilis watched from the corner, silent and invisible as Faustus courted his new friends. Friends begotten purely from Lucifer’s gifts to his Master Doctor, gifts given in exchange for Faustus’ soul. If Mephistophilis was not so sure that Lucifer was always watching he would have wept every night for his Faustus. The torment of damnation was no future to have and for all Faustus’ failings it was not one he deserved.

Mephistophilis felt no guilt for brokering the deal, no regret, his desire to weep was a selfish one. He felt jealousy watching Faustus with his new friends, envy as the woman trailed her pale hand across Faustus’ padded sleeve, wrath that his master ignored him like this and lust…such lust. Mephistophilis’ skin tingled with the memory of Faustus’ fingertips painting blasphemies in sweat and blood. He was slave to his master in every way possible and something in the depths of him ached that he was not enough.

He looked up and saw Faustus staring at him, though he knew he was hidden from all eyes but Faustus, Mephistophilis felt entirely exposed. He knew his master and his master knew him and the smirk painted on Faustus’ sweet lips was intended to produce but one reaction. Mephistophilis shifted in place cursing the body that Faustus commanded him to take the form of. He barely heard the soft murmur of his master instructing him to wait in the lavishly decorated bedroom on loan to them from the fair-weather companions. But it was a command and he had sworn to obey.

Hours later, enthralled and writhing, bound in sweat and blood and something that was not and could not be love, Mephistophilis growled the name of Faustus into a bared shoulder. His desire to weep was as strong as ever, as selfish as ever, for after the four and twenty years were done, there would be no more nights such as this. But Mephistophilis knew, for this was his torment, that the feeling that was not and could not be love would never fade.

Somewhere, Lucifer laughed. 


End file.
